Of dreams, women, and awesomeness
by ciyonne
Summary: Gilbert Beilschmidt is just like any other man out there, save for the fact that he hides a dark secret, which shall not be revealed in this summary. Yep, I suck at summaries so just read it and see what it is about yourself, yes?
1. A prologue of sorts

Author's notes: Why hi there! So then, I saw this... thing, and decided I might as well post it already. First multi-chap., yeah! 8D (Hopefully I'll be able to finish it D: ) Ah, hetalia isn't mine. 8D

PS: italicized = dreams, ' '= thoughts, " "= speech ( just so you won't get confused xD;; )

* * *

_It was a beautiful, sunny day, the sun's rays peeking through wonderfully thick and fluffy clouds. There was a gentle breeze, and the leaves in the trees all around swayed along with it. There were trees everywhere, the kind that towered over all, some so tall that it seemed like the tip could reach the sky. Within that forest, one could see two young children playing, a young boy and a young girl, both of about ten years of age._

"_Look at that flower!" the young girl cried out, her lovely green eyes filled with excitement and wonder. She looked almost regal in the branded satin dress that she wore, if it weren't for her long, wavy, light brown hair, which was tied back in a messy ponytail instead of an elegant bun._

_She was pointing to a bush nearby, which had bunches of flowers, the blooms all small, pink and delicate. The flowers swayed in the wind, and seemed to wave back at her._

_The boy beside her chuckled at this remark, earning him a rather loud smack at his back. Slightly wincing at the pain, for it had hurt, he turned to face his playmate, whose lips were beginning to form a small pout. _

"_What was that for?" he exclaimed. Although he would not admit it, it stung. Despite being a girl, she was pretty strong, especially for one of her stature. 'It must be because she's a tomboy…,' he thought to himself. He didn't dare to say it out loud, as he already knew that it would irk her._

"_You always laugh at me…," she muttered, an adorable pout on her lips, her chubby cheeks tinted a light pink._

"_That's not true!" he stated, "It's just that we see flowers all the time, anyway, but you were so excited over that one. That and flowers are girly things. You are a girl after all!" _

_A gentle smile replaced his usual smirk, and even his bright crimson eyes were seemingly gentle at that moment._

"_Hmph! Of course I'm a girl!" she retorted, her face turned away. She was just about to stand up and leave when a gentle but firm, hand pulled her back down._

"_I was just kidding! Geez…," he protested, trying to sound offended, though the twinkle in his eyes betrayed him._

_Suddenly, he reached into the bush, for it was within his arm's reach, and plucked a couple of the small, delicate flowers._

"_They're even prettier up close!" she cried out, her face filled with delight._

_The boy smirked once again, before saying "Of course! After all, the awesome me picked it!", which earned him a small giggle from his friend._

"_Since you seem to like them so much, here," he said, gently placing the flowers behind her ears, with a small bunch for each side of her head._

_She gave him an appreciative smile. "Are you sure I can have them? …They're so pretty…"_

"_Of course, but on one condition!" A proud grin was splayed across his face, which did not fail to show his cheer._

"_What is it?" she asked, her voice as sweet as honey._

"_Whenever you see this flower, think of me, okay?" he told her, with his grin wide enough to show his perfect, milky white teeth._

_She gave a curt nod, before turning her attention to the sky. The sun was already beginning to sink. The sky was of such a marvelous mixture of colors, which blended and complemented each other perfectly. The moon can already be seen faintly across the horizon, appearing as if it were merely a ghost of the silvery beauty that it is at night._

"_It… it's already late," she muttered with a sigh, pulling herself up afterwards._

"_Yeah, it is, isn't it. Want me to walk you home?"_

"_No. Mother and Father wouldn't like it if they knew I was sneaking to the forest. And that I'm friends with you."_

"_Huh? But why?" he whined. "I don't see anything wrong with it…" _

"_Well, they said that I shouldn't talk to common or poor people. And that the forest is dangerous. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" she uttered, with a sweet smile on her lips._

"_Fine, fine, Liza…," he said, still mumbling something about not being common at all, and not being that poor. "But you'd better come again tomorrow!" he added after a few moments, his voice loud and clear, with just the slightest hint of despair and loneliness._

"_Of course!" was her immediate answer. She turned around to see his face whilst saying so, as she was already a good couple of meters away._

_She turned around again, this time for good, to head back into the safety of her home, which was just a couple of minutes away._

"…_how pretty…," he found himself muttering under his breath, as he watched her figure slowly become enveloped by the darkness that had arisen._

_He gazed at the sky once more, before turning the other way, opposite the direction that she took, into his own home, which wasn't far at all either. Soon, he, too, was surrounded by the darkness, by the beauty of night._

* * *

He woke up with a start, the dream so vivid it seemed as if it had been etched into his mind. No, scratch that. Given the fact that he had been having that very same dream for weeks already, for reasons he did not comprehend, it already was etched into his mind. Even now that he was already awake, he can still recall every single detail, from the exact shade of pink that the flowers were bestowed with, to the timbre of the voice that belonged to the girl in his dreams.

To others, it would probably be a really good dream, especially if that said other person were a hopeless romantic who was into that kind of mushy dreams, but seriously, after weeks and weeks of the very same thing, it was slowly turning into a nightmare. Not the "oh-my-god-monsters-are-going-to-eat-me" kind of nightmare, of course, but still. A nightmare, nonetheless. Probably.

He glanced lazily out the window, his crimson eyes the only part of his body that darted to and fro with his usual dynamic energy. It was already day, with the sun up and shining upon all that his eyes can see, so he got up from bed, partly because he did not want to go back to sleep, what with that exact same dream haunting him every time he drifted off and slumbered, but also because judging by what the clock next to his window says, if he didn't get to his workplace in approximately ten minutes, he was going to be fired. Again. For the umpteenth time. Of course, it didn't really matter, since with his sheer awesomeness, his boss couldn't afford to lose him, and thus, would always re-hire him, but still. The free coffee in the office tasted better than what he made, and for him, that was an apt enough reason for him to get up, start changing, and rush off to his workplace in a speed that would have made the Flash, or maybe even Superman, cry out in jealousy.

Yes, he was awesome. Yes, his name was Gilbert Beilschmidt. Yes, this story is going to be about him. Nobody else but him.

* * *

More author's notes: Tell me what you think of this, okay? 8D It's, like, the longest thing I've written, ever, and it's only the beginning. :'D Please criticize me so I can improve! 8D

PS: So, how do you edit things here in ? :'D as in the file itself, like this thing fff I honestly don't know how aaaahhhh OTL;;


	2. The real beginning of this awesome tale

Author's note: Yay, I actually managed to finish this thing/chapter/part already. 8D Uhh, hetalia isn't mine.

* * *

Gilbert was not a happy man.

Well, normally he was, but at that moment, no, he was not.

There he was, standing by the sidewalk, as his employer and fellow employees enjoyed themselves inside the haven that was also known as his work building that has a heater inside it, as well as finely made hot chocolate and crisp, yet fluffy, doughnuts that smelled sweet as butterscotch and had a thin layer of slightly melted glaze on top of it. Considering the fact that his workplace was a café, it was natural for it to have these things, though. Still, his workplace was practically the epitome of heaven on that harshly cold winter day.

He was only two minutes late. Two. Yet his boss, Francis, re-fired him. For, what, the ninth time? Yet Antonio, who had arrived even later than he, was gladly welcomed by his employer, and was obviously not fired. Life wasn't fair.

So there he was, staring at the streets, with snow and sleet covering everything that can be seen with a thin layer of white. It looked a lot like the glaze that could be found on top of the doughnuts in the café, which made him feel even hungrier than he was, which in turn made it most probable that the loud growl that reached his ears had come from the deep pits of his stomach.

Just because he felt hungry didn't mean that he was going to leave his spot, though. After a couple of minutes, he was pretty sure that Francis would already have re-hired him. After all, nobody could make sandwiches as awesome as the ones that he himself makes. The moment that he's allowed inside again, he can go off and eat a couple of those doughnuts for free. Which made his waiting valid and worth it.

Sure enough, after five minutes, and a steady line of customers that slowly filled up the entire café, out came Francis, a small frown on his face, as he ushered Gilbert in hurriedly. The smile that was splayed across the crimson eyed man afterwards was so wide and so bright, it would have equaled the radiance of the sun.

So there he was, in that boring yet comfortable café, for the duration of the day, for he had nothing else to do with his life anyway. It wasn't that he was not awesome. It was just that he couldn't think of anything worthy of the greatness that he was bestowed with at birth. Perhaps the moment he was able to, though, he would get off that café and start spreading his awesome to the world. Though maybe he'll stop by for a moment or two for a snack.

Time apparently flew by faster when he was actually doing something, for before he knew it, the sun was already low on the horizon. It was nearing five o' clock, and the steady line of customers that had once been there dwindled to merely a couple or so.

There was that blond man that he once thought was a girl with his boyfriend or something like that. Hey, it wasn't his fault that he thought so. It's the man's fault for wearing a skirt, a pink, frilly one, at that, and not his lack of judgment. There was also that girl that he usually saw with someone that would most probably be her brother, since they looked so alike. She had a blue ribbon on her hair, every single time, and had a voice that was small and hardly audible, contrary to her brother's, which in turn was demanding and authoritative.

Tick. Tock.

The clock's hands seemed to move much more slowly now, as he slumped over across the counter. He couldn't leave, though. His boss left him to close the shop for the night, saying something about having to go on a date with a beautiful lady, and his co-workers, Antonio and Arthur, both had appointments or whatnot. Which were most probably lies, but since Francis fell for them, he had no right to call them both liars. Yet.

'Finally', he thought, as the blond man-chick, and his boyfriend or fling or whatever he was, had left. A few moments later, and the real chick went off too. He made a few fist pumps in the air, rejoicing at the fact that he was free to do whatever he wanted to do now, and then went outside, with his backpack slung across his shoulder, closing and locking the door behind him before throwing the key into the air. This he caught, since he was awesome like that, and inserted into the back pocket of his pants.

Walking off towards the direction of his home, he was caught by surprise when he saw the girl he had served earlier in the café walking nearby, a few meters ahead of him at most.

Perhaps it was because of the squelching noise that his heavy, combat boots made against the soft ice. Maybe it was because of the jingling sound that the array of key chains that adorned his backpack had made. Who knows, and who cares? All he knew was that five seconds hadn't passed before she turned around, as if to check who was behind her, as if to make sure that no criminal or mercenary was lurking by the shadows, waiting for their prey.

He stared at the girl in front of him, at her eyes, most especially, which were of a clear, and bright, green. They looked so innocent and pure, making him completely sure that she is a virgin, though he didn't know exactly why he knew that, and why they looked that way. Perhaps it was gut instinct. Perhaps it was merely a trick of the light. Perhaps it was neither.

She wasn't a stranger to him, exactly, so he supposed it wasn't all creepy and stalker-ish of him to be gazing at her like that and for that long. After all, he had often served her and her brother some nice, warm coffee in the café. True, he didn't know her name, but still. At least he knew her face, and her identity. Well, kind of.

Nearer and nearer he walked, seemingly hypnotized by those green eyes of hers. Her expression changed from that of curiosity, to anxiety, to that of downright fright. He did not care, though. He trudged on, and on, and on, ignoring the fact that she was backing off slowly, but surely, the growing look of fear on her eyes, the tiny yelps she let out, and the way she was shaking and shuddering all over.

"Wh-who exactly are you? Why are you…following me?"

Her voice seemed so small, and she so fragile, but to him, that did not matter. A wide smile was soon on his face, cheerful and frightening, so different from the boyish smirk he usually had on. Everything seemed a blur to his red eyes, which only saw the emerald green of her irises, nothing less and nothing more.

Those eyes. They looked exactly like _hers_.

They looked like freshly cut grass, like expensive, sparkling emeralds, like the bottom of a deep lake. So fresh, so pure, so young, so alluring, calling out to him like sirens to a sailor, so tempting, telling him to kill her, to make her blood his, to resurrect his lost love with blood stained by sin.

His mind clouded by reason, he listened to the lies that madness fed him, walking closer and closer to her, even as her shriek broke through the dull silence of the night and against his sensitive ears. Reaching into the outermost pocket of his backpack, he unzipped it with one hand, and brought out a jackknife that he always carried around, the moon's gleam shining threateningly upon the silvery metal of its blade. She tried to run away, but he was faster than she. Grasping her arm so tightly that she cried out in pain, he used the pocketknife in his hand to stab her blindly, not really aiming for anything, yet still managing to pierce the soft, docile skin around her chest, where she was most vulnerable, with its blunt edge. He continued to do so until thick, red drops fell from her neck, until silence returned once more, until the brightness in her eyes faded to a dull jade, losing their shine and allure.

The moment reason returned to his clouded mind, he immediately let her go, shock replacing his former malevolent cheer. What had he just done?

Her body fell limp upon the cold, hard ground, blood seeping out from where her head hit the fire hydrant, the crimson blood hauntingly beautiful against the pure white of the snow.

He knelt down, and removed his gloves, afterwards letting his hand soak up the blood that now entrenched the sidewalk's snow. Slowly, he put his gloves back on, as the harsh winter chill made his hands numb and stiff. Placing his backpack by his side, he reached in, and took out a small plastic bottle. He then collected the blood that trickled down into the bottle, which used to carry water alone. Soon, he was able to fill the bottle up to the brim with her fresh, young blood that still smelled of sweet lavender and lilies of the valley, as she had when she was still living.

He stood up, and walked away, as if he had never done what he just did, with no guilt plaguing him just yet, for shock and confusion numbed his brain, leaving him unable to feel anything. He left her dead body lying on the snow, as if daring somebody to find out about his deed, her blood, that which he had collected, seemingly making up for everything in his confused and crazed state of mind.

The stars seemed to lose their shine. The moon seemed to lose its gleam. Her cold blood continued to stay on the streets, calling out for attention with its stark crimson hue.

* * *

More author's notes: Yeush, Gil is a vampire. 8U –shot- Nah, not really, he just murders young virgins and collects their blood. :3 Which isn't that much different from a vampire, but…still? 8D;; Hah, you might be wondering why I'm making Gil a psychotic, homicidal kleptomaniac, but after a few parts, I'll let the story explain for me. Wait what. 8D


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